Apotheosis - Deus Ex or Animae Ex?
by Ageofmyths
Summary: AU. A divided man, missing his divine half. How far down the slippery slope could the deprivation of gentleness and ethics lead Harry Potter, especially when he knows what he's going to go through? Appearances can be deceiving. Can you create a god without morals? Paradigm shifts. Time Travel. Soul Magic. Pairing up for vote. Dark, Challenging world. Some people OOC.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Not a sequel! Parallel story instead.**

 **Hey everyone! I'm back, momentarily! Let's forgo the massive apology I owe everyone for not showing my face in 2 years.**

 **This first chapter should have been posted a long time ago, and those of you that have been following the other Apotheosis story will be able to tell that it is in fact the** _ **same chapter.**_ **(I hit a wall with Rule of Depravity, I'll fix it when I'm not busy with exams).**

 **No, I'm not trying to deceive you with reiteration – this is simply a necessity for the plot to make sense.**

 **No, you do not need to have read my other story to understand this – they run parallel to each other, in terms of timeframe.**

 **Right – this chapter serves more as a** _ **light-hearted**_ **introduction. Forgive the parody aspect some parts of it may present. It was always written with parody in mind, but this story will be taking a much darker tone than any of my previous writings in future chapters. I'll be bumping up rating to M when I feel it's required.**

Please, let me know if you have any additional concerns regarding this.

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 **Comments: This story is best read in a half width page format, with every other setting at default (unless you have preferences set for those).**

 **Disclaimer: The recognizable part of the plot in this story is owned by its respective groups and their affiliations, and the character themselves likewise.**

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 **.oOo.**

 **Part I – Apotheosis**

 _There is a house in New Orleans_

 _They call the Rising Sun_

 _And it's been the ruin_

 _Of many a poor boy_

 _And god, I know, I'm one._

\- Snippet-verse from _House of the Rising Sun_ , American folk song, first recorded by The Animals

 **Autumn's Eve**

Spinner's End was a very happy community of people, all brought together in celebration of Michaelmas, for the first time in many years; all residents of Spinner's End were gathered around central sapling in the square. Hiding a very wet terrace of unnatural lilies and geraniums under its wild decorations, the sapling seemed to be the focus of the party. As the party drew to an end, no one noticed a lone, red-haired figure snap the highest branch and tuck it in a bag fitted for such purpose.

No one noticed the flickering light from the second floor bedroom of the run-down house at the end of the street, either.

When the red haired figure reached the house, she shimmered through and seemed to disappear into it. When she reached the bedroom with the bag in her hand, she took off her fur-tailed coat and purred adoringly at the other person in the room.

Acknowledging her with a glance, he gave her a tense searching look, then deciding to forgo the usual ritualistic greeting, snapped at her.

"Well, do you have it?"

The undertone of anger was not subtle enough, but it was confusing – she had not failed before, nor had she failed now. She attributed it to the constant tension of their situation and silently promised to take care of him and nurse him into better moods after the ritual.

At the acquiescing nod from the red head the young man visibly relaxed and gestured at her to slip it into the circle drawn on the floor in front of them. After a nervous first step, the red head decided walking was not worth messing up the volatile circle and glided over to it before dropping the twig in. She gave a grim smile as she watched it catch fire all on its own – a grey, smoky, long-lasting and slow-burning fire.

When she turned around however, her inexperience coupled with the hasty possession of the new body caused her to inadvertently hit a small sand-timer from the nearby tabletop and smash it in the very middle of the circle. Normally, the sand timer would have had an unbreakable charm on it, but this one needed to be broken, and _at the right time_ , for the ritual. This one was slightly off, and it shattered into a thousand pieces, the temporal sands spreading all over the area.

Her shriek warned the boy with her of her failure and he whipped around, giving an animalistic growl at the sight before him.

All that hard work, all that meticulous preparation – all for naught. The sands were too fine to be collected with a simple spell – no guarantee that dust wouldn't mix with it. The time was set, with no way of fixing it.

The seventeen year old boy sighed loudly before deciding to go on with the ritual. This was the only way he'd be able to fix his own mistakes. After all, he should have realized that spell modification was dangerous matter not to be meddled with; instead, he had ended up practically decimating the wizarding world. Voldemort had not been merciful and he seemed to have endless supply of death eaters, no matter how many Harry tore through.

"Right, Ginny." After a short glance at her pale face, Harry continued. "Because of that, we can't go together. I'll have to fix this all on my own, because Ron'd crucify my dead spirit if something happened to you. Give the girls my love, would you? Especially Bellatrix – tell her no hard feelings – even if she's been dead a couple months, I still think she's got a soft spot for me."

The corpse that Ginny was possessing simply gaped at him, dumbstruck, before Harry turned his wand on her and fired a high-grade soul banisher at her. The last thing Harry saw before the ritual activated was the horrible, betrayed look that Ginny sent him, and he shuddered to think what could have happened if he hadn't kicked her back.

He didn't know when he would get up, or indeed, _when_ he would get up, but he'd be a fool if he let the past happen as it already had.

Harry woke up a couple years in the past and decided to name that waking moment, in a very original manner, 'the jump'.

 **.oOo.**

 **Chapter I**

 **Freedom and Misery**

 _Two months after waking up from the jump_

Harry woke up – at dawn – with a blinding headache gnawing at his temples – and if he had been his old tense self, he would have smashed something. Definitely not the kind of wake up he had been expecting, not after a nice night's rest following from the evening's relaxing massage. There was a certain stench in the air he wasn't able to identify – not the kind that stemmed from any well-known after-party disasters, no – but it wasn't helping all the same. Getting up from the bed he began recollecting his thoughts, promptly jumping up in shock as he finished.

 _No, I need to clear my head, and this room... And this room needs proper scourgifying._

Harry took a look around and found what scared him. He wondered what the red, viscous goo-like substance all over the floor was; at a first glance, he would have easily guessed ketchup. After a closer look, though, he scrambled back in fright from the concoction. He'd seen it before, and the Lethargia – mind-numbing potion used in interrogations – was deadly in the right hands. Which meant that someone – and he had a disquieting notion it was Fleur – had tried to slip a vial of it down his throat.

 _So, Crouch Junior is already using someone as a proxy, hmm? I'll have to watch my back. I don't remember this happening to me._

After that, Harry began to meticulously clean his room, or rather, the Room of Requirement, which had hosted a rather large party the previous evening. In fact, it was only thanks to Fleur's ingenuity that Harry had managed to have his relaxing evening. After all, you can't really expect a house party to happen in the common room – _McGonagall would have our heads!_ – and the Room of Requirement fit their needs perfectly: separate rooms on demand for maximum effective privacy.

Harry turned and looked around for the Beauxbatons champion everywhere in the different rooms that popped up within the Room of Requirement. His search yielded nothing of her current location, which aroused his suspicions once more – everyone else from the party was still inside, currently asleep. Most conspicuously absent from the sleeping bodies was one Hermione Granger _and_ the one he had slept with – to the best of his knowledge – Fleur Delacour.

 _I should have known it was too good to be true. There is no way Fleur would have expressed any interest with me, not with me in this current fourteen year-old body, not with someone she knows so little about._

So, Harry established that Hermione had seen his reactions to Fleur, and had decided to seduce him with polyjuice.

The question that remained to be answered, now, was whether Hermione was the proxy that 'Moody' was using – and if so, to check whether she was under the imperius.

 _If not... well then, either I lost a good friend to the Dark Lord, or I have an unknown threat to take care of. Fan-fucking-tastic!_

If it was Hermione though ... Of course, he'd try and get her back – there was no way he had gone through all that he did, battled and lost everyone that he had had, only to be betrayed and beaten now. No, if Hermione was simply a little more attracted to him than she let on and wanted to know him 'better', then no harm was done, but it would mean that someone else was trying to open up his deepest secrets.

Harry had prepared for the eventuality of losing _to_ Voldemort; he just hadn't prepared for the eventuality of losing _everyone_ to Voldemort _before_ him. That was the main reason why he had asked Hermione to mess with the massive Time-Turner they had found in the Department of Mysteries, next to the Veil Room.

 _Too bad she died before she could join me in this time._

Harry surprised himself with the clear lack of emotion he showed; and indeed, he wasn't sure he could feel anything anymore about his life prior to the Time Jump. It was as if the event had created a disjunction between him and his previous reality – not that this was a drastically different one, either.

From what he had established, this was the same reality that he grown up in, with the notable exception of the fact that Harry had now irrevocably changed the timeline by popping into this world just a couple of weeks before the First Task.

The Gryffindors had held back the party until he had left Madam Pomfrey's, and he had rewarded them with free access to booze and Hogsmeade via a secret tunnel he had uncovered from Dumbledore. He had wanted to tell them about the Room of Requirement himself, but somehow the Terrible Twins had already known about them, a fact that surprised him considerably and had him on his guard.

 **.oOo.**

Minerva McGonagall's announcement was met with a fair amount of apprehension – after all, how many of them knew how to dance 'properly'?

More importantly, how many of them had the courage and maturity to ask, both for help and for a date?

Not very many, that's for sure. The boys seemed especially jittery, even to themselves.

Thankfully, though, the professor seemed to have everything under control. That didn't mean Harry wasn't going to help his friends – a shimmering veil seemed to form over the whole room and dropped just a second before anyone could notice it and trace it back to him.

 _Professor McGonagall definitely needs her glasses,_ Harry snickered.

"Mr. Weasley, thank you for volunteering. Kindly stand up and step up to me."

The poor boy's stutters and mumbles forced everyone to choke back their laughter at his predicament. Nevertheless, Ronald Bilius Weasley showed that he deserved to be in Gryffindor by stomping the last few steps (after having heard his year mates' obvious choking sounds) and grabbing McGonagall's waist and hand.

The latter was quite flustered at the dominant attitude Weasley was showing.

"Mister Weasley! Have you waltzed before?" The slight astonishment present in the question was not missed by anyone – least of all the lazy, lanky Gryffindor himself.

The red head in question could only blush and nod his head slightly. The ensuing snickers related to the already established fact only made his face turn redder, and Harry felt pity for his friend's embarrassing situation. Inwardly, Harry mused about his emotions – they had all returned to manageable levels, and he was no longer prone to violent outbursts.

Getting up and crossing the floor to the girls' side, Harry did an exaggerated bow in front of a non-descript and worthless airhead... Lavender Brown.

"My lady, may I have this dance?" The positively impish smirk on his face gave away nothing of his prior thoughts.

Lavender's face, visibly flushed from the very obvious bow directed to her, turned a very tomato-red and quickly recovered by genuflecting in turn.

"Yes of course, milord." The giggles she let out at the end didn't serve to diminish the atmosphere around them in any way, but it did have one good effect – all of the boys stood up and began crossing the floor (to get to the other side).

The poor professor could only gape at them as they all took partners and headed onto the floor and began getting into the same positions as Weasley and herself. She cleared her throat, and the gramophone started playing at a slightly quicker pace. Accordingly, everyone stepped up their game.

"Oh my, Neville... I didn't know you could dance so well!" Hermione quite literally gushed at him.

Harry himself raised an eyebrow, though for a different reason – Hermione must have been hiding when Harry had walked up to them, or else he would have asked her straight away.

"T-to be honest, I, I didn't know either!" Hermione simply laughed off the startled and stammeringbloke who didn't know what he seemed to be saying.

Professor McGonagall just watched slack-jawed as everyone in the ballroom executed a perfectly synchronized choreographed waltz – this had to be impossible – after all, hadn't half of them as good as admitted they didn't know how to dance properly? There was either something fishy going on, or the twins were at it again. Nevertheless, she let the _fun_ go on. Besides, she was enjoying herself, too.

"There's no need to move your hand up, Mister Weasley. Where it was before is just fine", she continued curtly, moving his hand back down to her hips.

A couple of minutes later, a fully embarrassed specimen of the Weasley family finally got to switch dance partners, and he managed to get close to Harry and Parvati.

Getting close enough wasn't that difficult, as the tempo of the dance ensured there was enough movement going around.

"Harry, mate, did you have anything to do with this? I mean... I know you questioned all of us couple nights ago if we could dance or not..."

Just as Harry was about to answer, though, he got cut off.

"Actually, you know what? I don't care if you did. I'm extremely grateful if you did, mate; stopped me from looking like a fool, and now we can finally get every girl in the year to admit that our house probably has the most _noblemen_ than any other!"

Seamus Finnegan twirled a very red Eloise Midgen close enough so he could whisper his two Knuts to the conversation, too.

"Aye, mate. I heard Lisa Turpin and Su Li from the Claws saying they wouldn't mind any of us asking them!"

Another twirl later, he disappeared and Dean Thomas continued.

"Apparently, they'd thought only the Slytherins would've been educated in the proper etiquette. Imagine that!" He gave a small laugh and turned to his lovely chocolate dance partner.

Unfortunately for them, their current source of amusement ended too quickly – Professor McGonagall had called them to sit back down; time was up. The bell signalling the end of the lesson rang reluctantly, almost as if the school realised how much fun her students were having.

"Well, it seems all of you were more than adequately well instructed in this particular, ah, art. Though I suppose this lesson doesn't seem to have been completely unnecessary." She continued, giving a pointed look at Padma Patil and Terry Boot, who seemed intent on drawing each other's tonsil out.

Said offenders quickly backed away from each other, but not before giving each other looks that promised later action.

McGonagall continued with what she was saying, and by the end, the bell rung again, signalling the start of lunch.

Both fourth year sections of the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables filled up five minutes after the start of lunch, and the feast began with gusto. Everyone noticed the beatific smiles on the girls' faces, and the confident, bordering on arrogant ones on the boys, but no one questioned it. As McGonagall discussed the recent happenings with the rest of the teachers, however, she noted that the Boy-who-lived was staring at her with gleeful smirk on his face, very reminiscent of another, similar looking boy and his friends, not so long ago.

 **.oOo.**

Rita Skeeter woke up feeling quite drowsy. She shook her head, as if to rid herself of sleep's debilitating hold on her, and set for the kitchen to take some of the dizziness potion she kept for medical purposes.

After her head had cleared, she tried to recall what had happened the night previously.

She looked at the date; thankfully, it was the twenty-fourth of December, meaning that she hadn't slept through a whole day, and that she would still be able to cover the Yule Ball taking place at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She noticed belatedly that she had apparently spent the night naked, and that for some reason her clothes were strewn all over the floor – near the entrance hallway. As slightly disturbing as it was, it did nothing to prepare her for the shock of her life.

"Oh hello Rita, I see you're up!" Rita jumped in fright and turned her head to face the bathroom she hadn't noticed had been locked.

Standing in front of her, in all his teenage glory, was one Harry James Potter. She took a moment to savour the sight in front of her before recoiling once more.

"What in Merlin's name?" Rita was starting to get extremely flustered – Harry hadn't tied his bathrobe in the front yet.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you wouldn't mind me using your bath – it was extremely relaxing. I would have woken you up, but you looked so pretty _while you slept_."

Rita decided to ignore the veiled insult and the slightly mocking tone that Potter – _Merlin, I just slept with an underage Harry Potter_ – had used with her, and opened her mouth a couple times before closing it just as quickly. She was trying really hard to figure out what to do and say so that none of this would be leaked to _anyone_.

"Rita? You didn't mind, did you?"

Rita squeaked out a no before turning away and placing her head in her hands. If this got out, the Daily Prophet would certainly _not_ take her side over his – after all, this was the wizarding world's saviour. Most likely, she'd be discredited and all of her articles would come under question.

Noticing she was about to have a full nervous breakdown, Harry decided it was time to start playing all his cards right.

"Rita, my sweet, look at me."

If she was bothered by his familiarity, he couldn't tell. She did, however, look up to meet his eyes with her own, while her lips quivered as he drew close to her.

Harry sighed and ran one hand through her silky blond tresses. He rubbed his other hand up and down her arm trying to comfort her. He felt a cool, dry scaly ridge, and looked down to see a narrow golden band encircling her arm. He started to trace it, and realized she was (debatably) unwittingly wearing the jewellery he had gotten her the previous evening, in full show of tabloids.

"H-Harry?" Her stutter brought him out of his reverie, and he looked to her with reassuring glance, even though his insides revolted at doing this to _her_ , of all people. If it had been him three years ago, he would have kept his glare of heated and passionate hate for the woman who nearly ruined his life. She couldn't keep his glance, and looked away after a bare few seconds.

"What are you afraid of, love?" Harry looked at her, trying to coax her into staring only at his eyes.

Rita for her part couldn't believe _this_ was the Harry Potter she had interviewed not so long ago. There was _no_ way the _little boy who cried at the loss of his parents_ could be this suave, or enthralling.

"Did you think I was going to tell anyone, darling?" Harry's words caused her face to take on a scared expression once more. She meekly nodded her head at him.

Harry gave a short, mellow laugh. "Now why would I ever do that to you, my dear?"

Rita could only look at the boy she'd spent the night with open-mouthed.

"You mean you won't tell anyone?" Her tone was positively incredulous.

"No, of course I won't." Harry replied with a merry twinkle in his eyes that Rita did not notice was fake.

Just as she was about to say something, though, Harry cut her off again.

"Though, we will need to have an, ah, _agreement_ , about the matter."

 _Shit! No wonder he said he wouldn't tell! He's probably going to force me to own up about the articles I've written about him! I knew this was too good to be true._

"Um, yes, of course! I'll ask for a full pardon in the next Prophet edition..." Harry immediately brought his right hand to cup her face and drew her to him.

"Now, now, Rita, why ever would you want to do that? Surely that would ruin your credibility for future articles?" By the end of that, Rita was gaping. _What does he want? Oh Merlin... does he want more nights with me?_ Rita admitted to herself that she was slightly flattered by the thought, but the fact remained that he was still underage.

Harry, of course, through passive legilimency knew exactly what she was thinking, and let out a soft chuckle that interrupted her thought experiment. She realized that he must have noticed her expression, and prepared herself for the speech she was about to give.

"Harry, as flattered as I am about –"

"Don't worry, Rita. No, it's not what you think," Harry paused as she let out an almost unnoticeable relieved sigh before he continued, "No, what I would like for you to do is to swear just a simple magical oath, that's all."

Rita's blood froze at these words. She couldn't see a way out of this, though... Perhaps he'd let her off easy. After all, if he was noble enough to not want to destroy her career, and not take advantage of her ... situation, then he'd probably not do anything too brash, _right?_

She made her decision and steeled her resolve.

"I accept."

 **.oOo.**

"See, Rita? I can feel this is going to be the start of a marvellous new relationship!"

Rita cringed a bit, but was elated. He had indeed let her off easy – after all, not publishing anything remotely derogatory about him was perfectly fine with her! She'd only done it because he was easy picking (at the time).

Just as Harry turned to leave, however, a horrible thought crossed her mind.

"Harry, wait!" Harry paused and turned at the sudden look of horror on her face.

"Yes, Rita?"

"I – I wasn't on the potion..."

Harry smirked internally before asking innocently, "What potion?"

The resulting flustered Rita was more than worth being held behind.

"You know... the potion." She said, pointing to her lower-belly.

"Oh! You mean _that_ potion. Call it what it is, love. The _contraceptive_ potion." Harry finished with a condescending and slightly derogatory tone before turning around without another word, with the intention to leave.

"Harry, wait! What if I get pregnant? With yours, I mean." Rita was extremely embarrassed by this – after all, Harry Potter, while (questionably) desirable, was nowhere near ready to be a father, and she _certainly_ didn't want an unexpected little one on the way. His answer, though, made her question his sanity and education.

"Why would you be pregnant with my child, Rita? It's almost as if you seem to be under the impression that you and I did something together."

"What the hell do you mean? _We_ _had unprotected sex!_ " Brilliant. Hysteria.

At this point, it became too much for Harry, who burst out with laughter. After he calmed down, though, he replied with a clinical ease and cold tone that got her shivering.

"No, Rita. You _thought_ we had sex. I never did anything with you. Not like I'd lower myself to the likes of _you_."

It hurt Harry to say that and it went completely against his normal, benevolent self, but he couldn't forget the hell that this woman put him through, before his time jump. He figured she deserved a bit of grounding before she got out of hand.

A slightly teary-faced Rita floundered about and stood up. "But – But you said that I looked – and the magical oath –" Harry watched as all of a sudden comprehension dawned on her and she started crying out loud.

"Yes, _my sweet,_ " Harry continued with a mocking sneer, "this was all about the oath. I used you just fine. But now you're in my pocket, you little witch (bitch?), and you better remember where and how deep my hands can go."

Trembling, Rita fell back in her chair, hard, and began sobbing in earnest as the youngest Triwizard champion left her apartment.

It was only after a long crying session that she realized he had apparated away from her doorstep and began to rationalize her actions. There was no way she had become such a mess without some form of strong compulsion charm on her.

 **.oOo.**

On the morning of the Ball, the boys who were still at school and not studying ran out the doors of Hogwarts onto the surrounding snow-blanketed grounds. After all, what better way to celebrate Christmas day – the Yuletide festival – than a massive snowball fight blown out of proportions?

Some of the teachers joined in the fun, as well. Professors Sinistra and Vector had a babble of boys who constantly tried to get them in hopes of getting their dresses wet, but a quick overpowered _incendio_ fixed that particular problem for them. Since it was in the spirit of Yuletide, and the Ball was to be held later on, no one was given any proper telling off or proper punishment.

Harry was glad that for the first year ever, Ronald Weasley had been cleaning up after himself and got his act together. Said boy had realized (with some judicious prodding at the right times by a certain boy-who-lived) that he could amount to a lot if he picked up his game.

As such, he was now taking Parvati Patil to the Ball.

Harry had been slightly amazed that Ron had the courage to do it as early as he did, _before_ many of the other good looking girls themselves had been asked to the ball themselves – in fact, Harry wondered if Ron had known that Lavender hadn't been asked when he'd chosen Parvati.

Since Ron didn't have a problem with it, though, Harry went with her.

Hermione had surprised them all (except for Harry, of course) by turning up at the side of Victor Krum. She looked brilliantly radiant, and was the centre of attraction for quite a bit of time before the opening dance.

"I've still only got eyes for you, Lav." Harry whispered softly to her ear.

The blush covering her face almost matched the one currently on Hermione's, now that she had everyone's attention on her.

The excitement continued for a little while before the Headmaster stepped up from behind the oaken table and muttered a quick _sonorus._

"Ladies and Gentlemen, would you please welcome the Triwizard Champions and their dates for the opening dance!"

The thunderous applause that ensued brooked no argument from any of them as they stepped up to their respective positions. Deciding to show off a bit (as the dance required a switch up of partners halfway through), Harry positioned himself at the right of Fleur, so that the _leetle_ boy would be able to surprise the half-blood Veela with his _natural_ charm.

"...And a one, two, three, four..."

The orchestra started playing just as all four males initiated the dance.

Roger Davies, Fleur's partner for the evening, seemed completely entranced by her allure, and was doing little better than following her moves all the time, barely keeping up. Harry laughed when he noticed, but none of the other guys seemed to having trouble in that respect.

The initially slow tempo of the dance, which increased incrementally till a certain level, now had them all going around and the girls twirling in circles at quite an impressive speed that made for an even more attractive display. Quite a few of the women attending the dance wished they were hanging around the arm of one the three male Champions.

Most of the men were visibly drooling at the combined sights of Fleur, Hermione and Lavender, the latter who had a slight allure charm placed on her by Harry, simply to incite envy at the school. He deemed it a nice prank for the evening.

After all, his date had to have her own shine, didn't she?

Halfway through the dance they switched partners and Harry conveniently ended up with Fleur.

The latter had gotten quite used to all men becoming drooling slobs at a mere gaze from her, and that in turn forced her to lead the dance with Roger. She wasn't expecting much from the _'leetle boy'-_ who-lived. She was in for a real surprise when he quickly began taking dominance and showing her the proper courtesies.

When they finished, and the Weird Sisters started up, Harry was forced to return to his own date. However, if the twinkle in Fleur's eyes were any indication, she wasn't averse to seconds.

 **.oOo.**

Similarly, if the snog at the end of the evening was any indication, Lavender thoroughly enjoyed herself.

She claimed she needed to thank him adequately – he only replied that she did it already by gracing him with her presence.

Really – he didn't want to be snogging _her_ senseless.

But hey, he was still a guy. A hormonal teenager, at that. Besides, it wouldn't be gentlemanly to refuse an advance from such a persistent lady.

When they left the Ballroom to head up to the common room, Harry didn't do anything.

When they went long into the night in the common room, Harry still didn't do anything.

When Lavender was about to pull him out of there in favour of the prefects' bathroom, though, Harry decided that things had gone far enough.

With a bit of passive legilimency he saw that Lavender was slightly nervous and excited – and also, more importantly to him – she hadn't done this with anyone else before. Oddly touched by the fact that Lavender would actually be happy to have him as a proper boyfriend (because there was no way she would be doing this if she didn't get a confession from Harry about liking her a lot), Harry decided the easiest way to deal with it would be to let her think before wanting to do anything forward when heavily dosed with alcohol.

A quick _somnus_ and a mild memory modifier charm (which would cause her to remember nothing had happened and that she'd simply gone to sleep after they'd done snogging – essentially what was going to happen) later, Harry carried her up to the girls' dorm and knocked on the door.

Thankfully, the stairs worked based on intent.

Astonishingly, a very naked and giddy Hermione opened the door – and to her horror, noticed that Harry was standing there carrying Lavender in a bridal hold.

Hermione let out an ear-piercing squeal before diving behind the nearest curtains. Parvati, who had just recently gone up from her relaxing evening with Ron just shook her head trying to repress a smirk before motioning to a bed near the window-pane on the farthest corner of the room.

"Thanks, Parvati. Did you have a nice evening with Ron?"

Harry entered and walked towards Lavender's bed.

"Oh yes! Yeah, it was great. He was fantastic; he's such a nice guy... I mean..." as she trailed off, she noticed the slight glow on Lavender's face as she slept in Harry's arms, breathing quite softly. Her eyes widened comically.

"Did you – Did you two, you know, did you actually do it?"

Harry's eyebrows perked up at the question before giving a quiet chuckle.

"No. No, I wouldn't let things go that far while she's not in a state of proper judgement. Never know – she might regret me in the morning." With a smile, he slid his wand down his sleeve and pulled the covers back, and gently positioned Lavender in her bed, before covering her up again.

"Oh," Parvati had a slight blush on her face. "Oh, okay. I mean, that's very ... nice of you. And no! She _definitely_ would not regret it! I mean – I ..." She grew quite flustered by the end of this, causing Harry to just laugh a little more. He turned and noticed Hermione was still behind the curtains, and that she also had a slight awed expression on her face, which she quickly hid with an approving smile.

"Oh, by the way, you wouldn't happen to know where her nightdresses are, would you?"

Before Parvati could say anything, Harry justified himself. "It's just that she'd probably not want to mess up such a beautiful dress by sleeping in it, so..."

Parvati was still slightly suspicious of exactly _how_ Harry would get it on her without 'doing anything more', as he claimed, but decided to watch. She answered by pointing to the nearest heap of cloths, and a silver satin night dress caught his eye – apparently, Lavender was neat enough to fix her night clothes _before_ going to the Ball.

He waved his hand over it so that it looked like he was still using his wand, and immediately the dress that Lavender had previously been wearing switch places with it.

With a smile reminiscent of a job well-done, Harry thanked the two ladies for passage and got out of the room in an unhurried fashion.

It was only after he'd left that Hermione noticed the mirror behind her.

 **.oOo.**

In the morning, Lavender would wake up to the faces of her three roommates, all with a slightly jealous tinge to their interrogative expressions.

Hermione led the Spanish Inquisition.

"Okay, explain what happened last night between the two of you! He practically _put you to sleep!_ "

When Harry overheard the gossip later on during breakfast, he almost choked on his pumpkin juice.

It turned out afterwards that Lavender had decided Harry _was_ worth all the trouble and she made it known by claiming a seat next to him in every one of their shared classes.

Harry didn't have any problems with it – after all, Fleur would probably need a proper hostage for the second task, and Harry himself obviously didn't fit the bill.

No, Harry wasn't feeling down at all, no sir.

He even had a very beautiful girlfriend who actually liked him for who he was (at least, he hoped so).

He'd made sure afterwards, of course. He had developed a disconcerting habit of slight paranoia and distrust ever since his sixth year. The time jump hadn't gotten him to forget that aspect of his personality.

He heard another interesting story from the Yule Ball night, though.

Apparently, Seamus Finnegan had 'pulled a Harry', as it were, and had done practically the same thing he'd done, but this time it was to Tracey Davis, one of the only half-bloods of their year in Slytherin. Millicent Bulstrode had been particularly helpful to him.

Except he got cornered by Nott, Goyle and Crabbe on his way out. The funny part was that Zabini, _Blaise_ Zabini stood with him against them.

Things would have gotten worse, if it hadn't been for the fact that Daphne Greengrass herself entered with an unidentified Gryffindor on her arm, and the couple roughly shoved everyone away down the middle so that Nott didn't get the chance to get his wand out.

A couple of _somnus_ and a _stupefy_ later, Zabini had shaken hands with Finnegan as the latter had been escorted out.

A new era of friendship and breakthroughs was beginning at Hog – No. Blaise hadn't acted much more than polite and reserved with Finnegan afterwards. Nobody found any reason to disturb the peaceful status quo that reigned in the aftermath of that, and everything went just perfect for everyone involved.

 **.oOo.**

Harry was actually enjoying himself a lot more than he would have previously thought, with Lavender. There was, unquestionably, substance and depth to her that he hadn't bothered to get to know before his jump. He almost regretted that, if it weren't for the fact that they were currently getting to know each other extremely well, and she seemed to have a burning desire for his throat.

Fleur didn't want to admit it, but the hickeys around his neck had put her off a lot more than she'd intended, and as such she was much more distracted in her daily interactions – a fact that didn't go unnoticed by either him or Madame Maxime. Neither cared, so long as it didn't put her off track for her second task – which she had assured her Headmistress that she had taken care of.

Fortunately for her, Harry didn't quite believe her when he heard it later from his very own little ladybug, so one night at dinner about three weeks before the second task Fleur found a small piece of parchment slipped into her hand by the handsome little boy.

' _Pine fresh – c'est le mot de passe pour les baignoires privées, troisième porte à gauche dans le couloir en haut. Prend l'œuf pour un p'tit bain. Je t'expliquerai là-bas, si tu viens, vers minuit.'_

She raised an eyebrow at the insinuation, but decided to humour him nevertheless. After all, he had definitely intrigued her before, and if his skills at the both the First Task and the Yule Ball were anything to go by, he would certainly be a useful asset. Not to say she didn't have her reservations, though.

 _Quand même, ça aurait été bien d'avoir reçu l'aide de quelqu'un ayant un peu plus de délicatesse et de maturité qu'un gosse comme lui._

 _Mais j'me doute de quoi, moi – tout ça, c'est normal – ces anglais ne savent vraiment rien du raffinement. Quelle horreur!_

Thankfully for her, Harry hadn't read her surface thoughts; that would have easily put him off his noble intentions and left him fuming in anger.

Fleur turned around to him and gave him a short, stiff nod before going back to her food. Harry took it as a good sign – he was right after all; she hadn't known. Harry sat down with a satisfied sigh, and picked up his fork once more.

He was in fact quite nervous; Fleur was around his actual age, and moreover, he hadn't done anything with her before the time jump. So in fact, he was going in practically blind and mostly uninformed.

She'd also never given him much thought before she had died in his time. She had eyes only for Bill, and as loath as Harry was to admit it, he was glad he would be able to get a chance with her this time around _without_ the presence of Weasley n° 1.

He had been _insanely_ jealous of Bill.

The non-destructive kind of jealousy, but it was still jealousy, and that emotion dictated that he took every chance offered to him to be able to make up for lost time and try and get the girl.

Harry was actually glad that Gabrielle was quite similar to her sister – it gave him a slight indication as to what Fleur might be like, and what she might want. Even though he hadn't ever pursued things with Gabrielle, she had developed a sort of hero-worship complex for him that he really couldn't do anything about. Unfortunately, her complex changed her personality, so Harry still wasn't sure if Fleur and his Gabrielle could be considered similar.

Either way, it was only in the aftermath of the second task that Fleur was a bit warmer towards him. So he believed that if he could somehow get on her good side even before the task, her cold demeanour might just crack around him.

Harry sighed; he didn't really understand his obsession for Fleur. Without giving it much more thought, though, he went to prepare himself for the upcoming _confrontation_ – he had no illusions about how it would start off.

 **.oOo.**

Fleur was happy to notice that Harry Potter hadn't misled her – but she was long ways off of even beginning to trust his intentions. For some reason, something about the boy seemed off. She wasn't able to identify what it was that she considered so off-putting, but there was definitely something about him that marked him as different from the others, and just as dangerous as any other seventh year she had seen and met so far.

She entered that private bathroom just like Harry had instructed her to – she had learnt from some of the Ravenclaws that it was better known as the prefects' bathroom, but she was not prepared for the sheer opulence of it, compared to the rest of the school.

Apparently, the Beauxbatons' copy was just a mash-up of this one, with a bit more lighting and a little less statues and space – in other words, she loved it. She was slightly irked by the living mermaid statue, which seemed to be glaring at her with equal disdain, but she decided to ignore that in favour of the brilliance of the actual baths; they were gigantic and seemed deep enough to be able to be completely submerged in, even for her.

The water was clear; so clear, in fact, that she was able to notice the younger Triwizard champion right away. She looked to his face, searching for any signs of treachery.

What she saw didn't make her happy at all, but, as she put it herself so well, _au moins je n'ai pas affaire à un baltringue._

Indeed, Harry Potter was looking at her with undisguised emotion – raw, almost palpable hunger, even. Just as he opened his mouth when his jaw slackened, he realized what he was doing, and quickly coughing and spluttering the water out of his mouth he stood up from the bath.

As his fit ended, he shook his head slightly and addressed her.

" _Bonsoir, Fleur. Merci d'être venue, et plus précisément, je te remercie pour ne pas avoir divulgué le mot de passe."_

Slightly intrigued by the fact that his French was indeed as immaculate in pronunciation as it was in writing, Fleur acquiesced his thanks and returned her own, in her own mother tongue, phrasing the sentence complicatedly so as to check if he 'really' knew how to speak French, and not just some memorized lines.

Satisfied with the smile and the casual ' _J'ten prie'_ , Fleur opened her next line of questioning.

"How did you know about this?"

"Actually, I sort of got lucky... I was frustrated and annoyed, and I decided I needed to take a hot, nice, long shower, and so I ended up here."

Seeing Fleur's suspicious looks at how he even got 'here' in the first place, Harry hurried on.

"And then I got startled by Arielle – she's the mermaid statue – and I tripped and fell with my bag and egg into the water. Once the egg hit the bottom, the latch opened up ... go on, you try it. Make sure you can hear the scream while it happens."

Fleur decided that either this was a very elaborate plot setup by Harry in some perverse scheme to get her wet, or he was telling the truth, and she decided to give him a chance.

She never expected his original reason to have been _both¸_ and when she heard for herself the message within, she immediately let go of her suspicions and jumped out of the bath to give Harry a long, drawn out hug, which left him mumbling and blushing quite unlike what he was used to.

 _For Merlin's sake, man! I've seen Hermione naked and not raised more than an eyebrow! How is she affecting me this much!_

Unfortunately for Harry, though, Lavender Brown happened to chance upon the prefects' bathroom that same night while looking for him, and found it unlocked. Curious, she slipped inside to a very unsavoury sight. Seeing red, Lavender got to conclusions much quicker than she would have if she had been analysing the situation in an impassive manner, and bellowed out a _bombarda_.

"HARRY BLEEDIN' POTTER! HOW DARE YOU, YOU TWO TIMING BASTARD!"

Lavender's screech quickly tore the two teens apart and unluckily for Harry, his blushing face and eager sex told Fleur everything she needed to know.

"Oh you disgusting pig! And I thought you were helping me through the goodness of your heart!" Fleur quickly stormed out over a rather indignant-looking Lavender and a completely confused Harry.

He quickly schooled his face to a pleading look and ran towards Lavender with an overpowered _protego_ to curb her furious onslaught.

"Lav, darling, I was only helping her for the tournament, I swear! Please, you've got to believe me!"

Lavender turned away from him in anger, and even the mighty Harry Potter had to face the fact that he had royally arsed himself in her eyes. No amount of pleading would reason with an emotional Lavender Brown, especially seeing as she had an easy-to-flare temper.

However, Harry wasn't James' son for no reason. Perseverance always got him results, and so he followed her around without hounding her, but still managing to look like a lost puppy. Every time he wanted to start talking, though, Lavender would glare at him and he would refrain from doing anything other than simply following her around. He figured that if nothing else, that would at the very least get her used to his presence mentally and thus get her to accept him and start to miss him should he disappear. Fortunately for Harry, the wild goose not-really-a-chase, which dragged him around the whole school at least once ended in front of the Gryffindor common room.

"Look, Harry! I don't care about your excuses!"

"But Lav..." Harry was cut off, as usual.

"Don't call me that!"

"Would you please just listen to me? This is the first time I've been in a situation like this – I swear by my magic and my life that I haven't cheated on you!"

As a bright glow embraced Harry, Lavender gave a loud gasp and abruptly slapped him. Shakily, she took a step back. This was not going _anything_ like any of them had planned. After a moment, she regained her voice.

"Harry! How dare you make an oath on your life! You could have _died_! Or worse, lost all your magic!"

Not for the first time, Harry questioned her priorities. Without voicing them, of course; he wasn't going to stick his foot in his mouth again. Instead, he continued with his answer.

"It just seemed like the only way you would look at me or even her me out. I'm sorry if I scared you, and I'm happy you care."

Harry's eyes had taken a distant look as he finished the sentence, and Lavender's own eyes glistened.

"Of course I care, Harry," Lavender replied in a soft tone before leaning close to him and giving him a long and tight hug, "it's just that it's really difficult seeing you with someone else... and seeing your obvious reaction to it." Lavender finished with a glare.

Harry fumbled about before answering. "Lavender, you're the only one I really care for, I swear. What happened with Fleur is exactly as I said before – I was helping her with the egg – for the second task, you know."

He hoped she would not notice his omission or his lack of response to his reaction issue.

"And the intensely emotional hug which got such a _rise_ out of you?"

 _So much for that hope._

"Lav, I'm a male teenager. I have hormonal reactions I _can't_ control. Please," at this Harry dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together – overdoing it couldn't possibly hurt –, "please believe me – I meant what I said at the Ball. I've still only got eyes for you."

That was all it took to for Lavender's resolve to crumble – not that it was that great in the first place when it had to deal with anything related to Harry – and she jumped in his arms with an overly passionate kiss.

 **.oOo.**

The day of the second task was upon them, and Harry had _really_ not wanted to let go Lavender the night before. By the time they had finished cuddling, a somewhat amused Lavender followed an irritated Professor McGonagall to the Headmaster's office, reassuring her boyfriend that she would return soon. She didn't notice McGonagall's lips twitch, and neither did she see Harry's concealed smirk.

Thankfully for her, though, Harry was prepared. The self-transfiguration spell he had been working on worked marvellously – it seemed he had inherited some of the natural ability of his father. As a result, Snape wouldn't be complaining about stolen potions ingredients.

Just like before, Fleur had trouble with grindylows. Just like before, Harry James Potter came to the rescue.

This time, though, he managed the whole thing in a far more elegant manner, naturally enhanced by his transformations. He gracefully swam to the platform without surfacing, and only released his treasures once he was certain of their safety.

Naturally, he was well rewarded later on during the day.

 **.oOo.**

Despite all of his precautions, though, Harry was not able to protect everyone. In his previous time, Cedric had died – this time, Harry had decided that he wouldn't act chivalrous. Chivalry, after all, kills people – a valuable lesson that he had learned previously, on many occasions.

He hadn't taken into account the fact that Death doesn't like to be cheated – in fact, she holds quite a famous grudge, and she'll find a way to exact vengeance, even if she doesn't kill you outright.

It was the day of the third task. Harry, being in the lead, had started off before the other three and was currently facing what seemed to be some sort of an illusion mixed with an inferius. Not wishing to spend too much time on figuring out the issue, he quickly sent an _incendio_ to take it out while spelling his eyes to ignore the illusion. Passing through the challenge, he came to an abrupt stop.

Sat in front of him on the pedestal was the Triwizard Cup – but this wasn't where it had been last time. Shrugging it off with only a slightly nervous feeling Harry picked up the cup, expecting the portkey to take him to the graveyard in Little Hangleton.

He got a rude shock when instead he heard a scream nearby – where he immediately ran to – only to find Fleur sobbing about a masked death eater appearing and sending a stunner at Cedric and disappearing with his catch.

 _Actually,_ Harry pondered for a brief moment, _Fleur is extremely articulate for being in such a sobbing state._

Then, of course, his hereditary saving-the-people gene kicked in (also in tandem with his sense of survival) and he made a portkey out of the cup he was holding before apparating to a certain graveyard full of memories.

What he had not expected was a gleeful Wormtail tying up an obviously confused Death Eater to the stone statue that had once nearly been Harry's demise. Diggory was on his back, trying to get up but struggling impotently against an invisible all-encompassing barrier, and Harry had no way of assessing exactly what he was dealing with.

He could only watch in shock as Voldemort resurrected all of a sudden, completely at the wrong time from what he was expecting. He hadn't even noticed the cauldron behind the massive gravestone that was shielding him from view.

He was about to drop everything he had planned and just grab Cedric and port back when he was interrupted by a voice that sent shivers through his spine.

"A minute of your time, Potter!"

Voldemort had put up both anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards. Harry wondered at that, but then realized he must have expected Cedric to know apparition.

All around the wards, Harry could now see the numerous Death Eaters who had answered their lord's call. The situation was dire, and there was little hope in sight.

 _Shit. Fucking SHIT! I should have alerted the headmaster previously. Now this stupid fucking oversight might just kill us!_

Harry turned to Cedric to see a resolved and hard stare looking determinedly at him. Silently lauding his courage and stoic nature, Harry placed a compulsion charm on him to apparate himself back to the Triwizard Tournament grounds the millisecond the wards drop.

Now that he had covered that, the only thing left was to keep him alive till that happened.

Fortunately for Cedric, the moment came sooner than Harry expected.

Unfortunately for Harry, the moment came before he had the time to establish a proper way to salvage the situation.

"I'll come back for you, Harry, I swear." Cedric murmured as he vanished away, much to the consternation and protests of the Death Eaters gathered around them. They had not expected either of the two to have enough energy to port away after what seemed to be extremely strenuous actions.

This Voldemort was not what Harry was used to – he seemed much more willing to use the organ in his cranium to maximum effect. As such, he needed to capitulate on the fact that Harry Potter was still here, while there was a chance that others with more benevolent intentions than him were going to port any moment and engage in a full scale battle with him, so soon after his rebirth.

This was something that Voldemort could not allow – he needed to destroy their primary source of morale – one Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

He quickly engaged Potter into a one-sided duel, exacting swift revenge for the years of pain that he had suffered at the boy's hands, and just as he was about to end it, he noticed a series of pops signifying people apparating just outside the wards that he had lowered for a moment for his Death Eaters to enter through.

Foremost among them was Albus Dumbledore, and surprisingly, Cornelius Fudge.

With a snarl of rage, Voldemort continued his onslaught all the while commanding his servants to power the wards by any possible means – even blood magic.

"See, Potter, we've got ourselves an audience today! How utterly delightful to have the world watch you burn while it stands yards away, in impotent rage!"

Harry always had a succinct answer, and this time was no exception.

"Fuck you, Tom! They'll break through, and I'll have the pleasure of destroying you once again!"

Harry was, of course, continuously dodging and wheezing out air as the fight got more and more brutal. In fact, Voldemort was surprised that Harry knew some of the spells that he did; for some reason, he suspected foul play – this mere boy could not know such spells, or fight with such alarming ability.

No matter – he was Lord Voldemort, and nothing would stand in his way. He always had a plan. With a malevolent smirk, Voldemort unleashed a massive area-wide destruction spell which wove away from his servants and Harry, before gloating for a short while to the frustrated audience surrounding them outside his dome-like structure.

"Spectators! Allow me to give you a show that you will not forget for a long while!"

He strode towards Harry in a relaxed pace, beckoning the young wizard to get himself up and ready after a moment's respite.

"How many of you are familiar with the soul, the _animus_ of a person? And the magic pertaining to this domain? Not many? How... disappointing." The snide remark was not lost on anyone.

"Well, let me enlighten you. When we are born, half of our soul is human and powers the body and mind. What you don't know, is that, naturally, there exists another half to our soul.

A divine half."

Giving a moment for the look of disbelief to wash from the faces of the audience, Voldemort continued.

"Yes, all of us, when we are born, possess a divine half to our soul. I, however, lost that before I even knew it." At that, Voldemort chuckled lightly, and an uneasy laughter followed in the ranks of his servants.

"Indeed – acts that corrupt the divinity of a soul cause us to forever lose this half, which some call conscience, other call morality. I lost mine completely before I could do something about it – not that I regret it that much. This _divinity_ ," Voldemort continued scathingly, "after all, is a major weakness and flaw."

Many were wondering why Voldemort was taking so much time explaining something that they viewed as extraneous to the situation. They were enlightened the very next moment.

"And do you know the pain that can be caused by forcefully ejecting this divine half of our soul? No? Well, you're all in luck. Mr. Potter here is about to find out."

With an insane quality about his reptilian face, Voldemort cast an extremely quick spell at Harry, who did not have the time to dodge and merely stood in shock while the spell hit him.

A moment passed, and he felt nothing.

Another passed, and he realized he really could not feel _anything_ at all _._ Harry Potter was completely numb.

And at last, feeling returned to his nerves, and thus began the pain.

Harry Potter was writhing on ground from the immeasurable pain he was suffering without being able to pass out; a cruel torture in the minds of everyone watching. Harry had suffered at the hands of Voldemort's cruciatus curse just previously; one would have expected him to have developed a slight tolerance to the pain, or at least numbness. Nothing could compare with the pain that he was currently feeling, not a tenth of it closer.

The audience could only watch in horror as a slight golden hue emanated from his screaming mouth and bloodied nose, as if his very essence was leaking out. As soon as it had left, the screaming toned down to whimpers.

Before long, the whimpering husk that was once the body of Harry Potter disintegrated before their very eyes, leaving two glowing orbs of light in its wake; one golden and the other white.

Voldemort made a note to himself to practice the spell properly; using it for the first time ever was bound to fail at some level – after all, he had intended the human part of Harry's soul to suffer indefinitely in the husk that was now dust.

It was his turn to be shocked, however, when a loud, booming voice made itself known from the golden orb.

"And one thing that _you_ should know, Voldemort, is that you have now freed a minor aspect of the Light from its human counterpart. We are now free, unfettered by the laws that govern us all!"

 _This show just got its viewer ratings and satisfaction increased tenfold,_ Harry's human soul commented. It turned towards his divine counterpart before giving a quick flash of light, signifying it agreed with the decision.

Merging would be best for the both of them.

When the two converged, however, under the fascinated eyes of everyone in their presence, they seemed to annihilate each other. They could feel that something was going wrong.

Indeed, because Harry's human soul was now in human form - aged down to a child - and hurtling frantically towards the front door of a house. It hit the door at high velocity and immediately lost consciousness.

Amnesia now had its hold on him, and even though he didn't know it, Human Harry was now on a different Earth, 1988. The house he had crashed into happened to be the Potter's residence.

Some would say serendipity; others would say that the Light watched over him. Both would be right.

Back on Earth, the Divine part of Harry's soul was similarly catapulted far away, but unlike his human counterpart, he wouldn't be heard from in a long while. Definitely a long, long while.

* * *

 **Right, so what do you think?**

 **I'm sure by now many of you have realized I have an unnatural tendency to include demons and angels in my stories – bear with me.**

 **I'll endeavour to address every single concern and comment as soon as they're posted, and I'm willing to make concessions to valid arguments. Critics are most welcome, as long as they keep an open-mind.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

 **A small second chapter to see if this story can garner some interest.**

 **Please keep in mind that the pairing for this story is up for vote on my profile. Vote!**

 **WARNING: Things can get a bit heavy this chapter. Lots of world building, slightly diverting from the Harry Potter you know and adore. Feel free to PM/review about any questions you may have, I'll do my best to answer them.**

 **In response to reviews SPOILER FOR THIS CHAPTER:**

 **There was no actual previous mention of any angels in the last chapter. I am introducing one in here, but they do not have any significant bearing in the story, at least, not for a while.**

* * *

 **Comments: This story is best read in a 3/4ths format (or half width format).**

 **Disclaimer: See first chapter.**

* * *

Potter Manor was usually not a quiet place. Two redheads and two black-haired inhabitants made quietude a rare commodity in the household. Added to that was the fact that today was the 1st of August 1988, birthday of one of the redheads inside. All of her friends, extended family, and political allies (each and every one present upon invitation) were being entertained in the guest ballroom. So naturally, when the entrance door of Potter Manor was hit by a humanoid projectile at high velocity, everyone inside stopped moving and conversation muted instantly. The afternoon ambience adequately jostled, the magically automated orchestra's magic fizzled out.

Calmly, Senior Unspeakable Potter assessed the situation.

 _Isolated event? Check._

 _Aggression from event? None so far, but can never be sure._

 _Death Eater attack? No. Been too long. Revenge illogical, few high-value targets present for scale of party._

 _Prank war retaliation from Black? Merlin, I hope not. Else he'll be castrated, this time, and it won't be me._

 _Event approachable?_

She took a deep breath.

 _Yes. Let's go take a look at this._

"James, dear?"

"Yes, Lily?"

"Handle the guests, if you would. Ask Sirius and Persephone for help."

"What's going on, mum?" Looking down at the wide-eyed Violet Potter, Lily gave a reassuring smile.

"We're going to find out, darling. Why don't you go find Michael and the rest of your friends, for now? We'll open your gifts in a moment." Violet knew that tone, and the edge in her mother's voice meant she brooked no argument.

Thankfully, Patriarch Potter managed to drag her towards her friends nonchalantly.

"Oh, that noise? That was the car engine I've been trying to modify. Must have exploded." All smiles and confidence exuding from his forced swagger, James pacified the ballroom. "Quite a shock, I'll admit, on the spot."

Amelia Bones, Assistant Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, raised her concerns. "You do realize modifying muggle objects is illegal, James?"

"Oh, I wasn't going to make it fly or anything – it's still legal as long as I don't make it do something it isn't supposed to, with respect to the Statute of Secrecy."

James knew that for once, whatever had just happened, his wife was better equipped to deal with. Mysteries were her side of the business. He was more accustomed to politicking and wand-blazing.

Half a minute later, a shrill screech from his wife got him to review his decision to let her handle it. Rushing back to the entrance as quickly as possible without raising the tension level in the ballroom, James inquired after his wife.

The well-respected couple got the shock of their lives.

 **.oOo.**

"I can't perform Legilimency on a child's underdeveloped mind, Lily! Who knows what it could do to his psyche?"

"I've already cast all the identification spells I know of, Albus! This simply _isn't possible!_ "

"While I confess the young man has quite some explaining to do once he wakes up from his coma, I cannot do what you're asking of me! The repercussions – they could be disastrous for him. The best I can do is a passive version once he's awake, to determine whether he's telling us the truth or not."

Lily Potter sighed. Aggravating Albus Dumbledore would get her nowhere. The situation simply was not possible, though. _I buried him myself. James, Sirius, Persephone, Remus, they were all there. They all bore witness!_

"I'll take a blood sample and run more advanced tests once he's awake. I can't do it while he's sleeping, since it would be blood forcibly taken. I'll run it against the Unspeakable Database of known samples. We'll know soon enough if he's my Harry."

Dumbledore sighed. He wanted to unravel the enigma that just appeared in front of him today, in the shape of James and Lily Potter's long dead son, but the boy had been stuck in a coma since the day he'd been found, a full week previously. He just didn't know how to wake him. Healers in the form of Madam Pomfrey and St. Mungo's most qualified spell damage and mental damage specialists had recommended to not taking any drastic actions until the boy woke up on his own. His vitals were fine – physically, there was nothing actually wrong with him. His mental state however, could not be properly assessed until such time as they were able to do a thorough check-up on him, which wouldn't be for a while, given his condition.

A voice rang from the doorway interrupting whatever argument Dumbledore was trying to construct cautioning against rushing through decisions.

"Headmaster, might I have a word with you?"

Sirius Black being polite to him? Merlin, what was the world coming to!

"Yes of course, Mr Black." Following him out the room into the main second floor hallway, Albus Dumbledore looked at him questioningly. "What was it you wished to discuss?"

"Thank you for your time Headmaster – I needed your expert opinion about something I can do which may be able to help young Harry Potter – my godson – there."

Dumbledore's gaze turned speculative while looking at him with slight confusion, before comprehension dawned on him. "You mean you want to use the same spell you used to restore minds of Frank and Alice Longbottom on him?"

"Yes, Headmaster. As it is part of the Black Grimoire of Magic, I'm the only one who can properly cast it in this household."

 _Well, it's Black family magic. On one hand it did restore the Longbottoms mind completely, without side-effects, and didn't interfere with brain activity. On the other, this is a child he'll be using it on._

 _Merlin help me._

"You have my reluctant support, Sirius."

 **.oOo.**

Bright white spots.

Unintelligible chatter.

Blink.

"… I had to try, James!"

"… Incredibly irresponsible of you! I can't believe…"

"… I _did_ give him my support…"

"…What if this was your…"

"… My Godson!"

Blink.

"Look! He's waking up!"

"… I knew I could…"

Blink.

"… Glass of water handy…"

Blink.

Bright white spots became distinguishable, coloured patterns. Blurry shapes took proper form. Lethargy gave way to age-old fight or flight reflexes.

Harry Potter jumped up startled.

The room quietened down. For a moment, everything hung by a hair's breadth as the boy took in his surroundings.

A soft, dulcet tone spoke up, almost hesitant. Fragile, but an overture nonetheless.

"Hello."

A short pause later, Dumbledore decided to have mercy on the Potters and spoke up.

"Hello to you too, my dear boy. Are you thirsty?"

"Yes, sir."

 _No arrogance exuding from him._ Dumbledore passed him the glass of clear water.

"Now, would you mind answering a few questions?"

"I wouldn't mind, sir." The slow tone set everyone in the room more at ease with him, Harry noticed.

"Do you know where you are?" The gentleness of the delivery took away the interrogation-like feel of the situation.

"No, sir." A passive probe told him the boy wasn't lying.

"Do you know who you are?"

"I'm Harry James Potter, sir."

Sharp intakes of breath all around the room.

"Do you know how you got here?"

"No, sir. Actually, sir," Harry made sure to punctuate every statement with a sign of respect for authority, "I don't remember anything apart from my name."

A lie, but no one would know that. Thankfully, Soul Magic created the perfect defence against mental magic. Dumbledore would never be able to tell his deception.

"The boy's mind is muddled – his memories won't respond the way ours do. It is possible; – in fact, it looks like he has amnesia."

Pandemonium broke out.

 **.oOo.**

The following week saw drastic changes in the Potter household. James and Lily Potter, once it was proven beyond reasonable doubt that the boy was indeed Harry James Potter, had delightedly taken him in. They had lost many years of him growing up, due to the prophecy uttered by Sybil Trelawney to Albus Dumbledore. When Voldemort had targeted the Potters on that fateful Samhain night, he had killed Harry Potter, but had also perished himself.

 _Or so they said._

Violet Potter would have been targeted after Harry, but obviously something had happened that night. Dumbledore had been extremely contrite and had apologized profusely for the fate that befell the family. Harry had been posthumously honoured by Dumbledore and indeed, the Wizarding World at large – the youngest magical to ever be awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class. James and Lily, grief-stricken, had accepted the award with a very bitter and forced smile.

The best way to make up for all those lost years was to welcome him back to the family, which everyone did, wholeheartedly. Michael had been thrilled to hear he had an older brother, and Violet had cried when she was told that Harry was the brother who had protected her all those years ago.

They had hit upon a small snag, though. Somehow the daily prophet had gotten hold of the news that Harry Potter was alive, and this spelt nothing but trouble for the family. They did not want the news of his miraculous recovery/resurrection out so soon; especially since the whole Wizarding World knew that he was the reason for Voldemort's defeat. The moniker of "The Chosen One" was thrown around a lot.

There were some who held different views, however. Dumbledore personally felt that this was a vindication of his belief that Voldemort had not actually died, simply disappeared. For in the prophecy that he held holy it was stated that neither could live while the other survived, and his interpretation of it was that Harry was alive because Voldemort himself was alive.

Harry, however, had issues.

His mental age had not changed at all. He was very aware of the fact this could be a new beginning, a new start for him. He was immensely glad. He would be able to do things differently, this time, and he was not going to waste this golden once-in-a-lifetime fate given opportunity to set everything straight. This was what he had been working so hard towards, in his original dimension. He has screwed up, royally, when he went back in time, believing himself to be more than capable enough to handle anything that was thrown at him.

He had paid for it, and he intended to learn from his mistake.

Though he had been split from his divine half, he had been awoken by some strange magic, which should not have been possible at all, given the grievous circumstances surrounding animus fission. He figured his divine half must have somehow helped him out. He was grateful, because now he had complete and unadulterated access to his immensely powerful soul magic. Much like the old concept of Ying and Yang, the Soul was antithetical to the Divine, and he was no longer weighed down by commonplace concepts like morality and he was certain he had lost his hero-complex, which consistently got him to risk his life for almost anyone and anything. While those concepts were debatably associated with the Divine, and he no longer felt that urge within him, and that made all the difference.

Harry shivered in delight. He had studied soul magic extensively, after understanding how Voldemort had manipulated his soul to get immortality. Thankfully, his parents were still great friends with Sirius and his _family_ _(who knew Sirius could settle down?)_ , in this dimension, so if he could pass off as being very studious, he might be able to request access to the Black family library and continue trying to find as much as he could about soul magic. Now, he was sure he would be able to perform soul magic much more efficiently, possibly with more power.

Soul magic is, unfortunately, essentially a misnomer. The idea is not that one needs to use up their soul to be able to cast spells, nor even that one has to sacrifice their soul to be able to use soul magic. In fact, basic soul magic works in a similar manner to glass, if light were to shine upon it. Harry had discovered the idea of soul magic late in his education period, and he realized he would have been much more adept at it had he started earlier.

Like the photons that make up light get their trajectory modified when passing through glass due to a change in the medium, magic gets similarly modified when passing through a receptacle – in the case of soul magic, a person's soul – and thus becomes a lot more precise, more efficient, easier to manage, easier to direct, easier to control or polyvalent. Since will and intent play a huge part in manipulating magic, soul magic is exceptionally powerful. Not only that, but it can also change the medium of magic, meaning magical counter spells such as the Finite Incantatem would be ineffectual against things they would normally dispel. Moreover, channelling soul magic allows for special spells that can manipulate the energy in one's own soul to both creative and destructive ends. A wholesome soul can refill the energy it expends by absorbing it from the surrounding, a form of ambient magic absorber. This is especially useful when compounded with the fact that it will absorb the energy from _any magic around it_ ; this can be controlled when one is extremely proficient at soul magic. The source of this energy need only be magical.

Harry had more than once refilled his soul energy by absorbing the magic powering certain wards and even spells in duels, though the latter was more based on luck than any real practice. However, since he understood such a thing was possible, he realized that the answer to defeating Voldemort might lie in becoming proficient enough at manipulating his soul energy and soul magic to achieve a state of constant harmony between energy intake and output.

The best part of all? Voldemort had split his soul erroneously – soul magic was a very dangerous and unstable avenue for him, one he actively avoided. Thus, he had one true magic that Voldemort would never be able to master, and intended to capitalize on this not so-insignificant advantage.

The direct counter to soul magic, unfortunately, is necromancy – as the magic powering necromantic acts come from rituals that only leave magical residue where they are performed and thus cannot be absorbed the way other conventional magics can.

Harry knew that Voldemort was definitely at the very least fully proficient in necromancy, from the sheer number of inferi he had released on the magical population during the war. He intended to use his soul energy as judiciously as possible if in a fight against dozens upon dozens of inferi. They could be countered by fire or soul magic, as they were raised through necromancy, but it wouldn't do to expend himself completely against them. While necromancy is the direct counter to soul magic, the only thing that is its real, theoretical, opposite is blood magic.

Harry didn't know how much experience Voldemort had with blood magic in this timeline, but he realized that he must have been quite prolific in his own to have made the connection about Harry's blood being what protected him from Voldemort, and thus use that same blood in a ritual to create a new body for himself. Hopefully he was not as gifted here.

Blood magic, used offensively, had always been nasty business, but he had understood the importance and need for it, in his previous timeline. He just hoped he would be able learn from proper sources rather than following half-rotten leads from mouldy spineless textbooks.

First, he had to establish himself as a genius. Nothing less than complete confidence in him was required from his parents and Sirius if he was to be let into the treasure trove that was the Black Family Library. Besides, he couldn't let Hermione take the title as the smartest magical in their generation without a fight now, could he?

Things were liable to play out differently, in this dimension. The first priority was to ascertain whether Voldemort still had the same horcruxes. If he did, well, Harry's job would become a lot easier. The second thing was to make sure he was capable of destroying Voldemort. Unfortunately, due to Dumbledore, the Prophet, and other perpetrators, the Wizarding World was pretty much aware that he was the one who was prophesized to bring down the Dark Lord. He was unsure whether Dumbledore intended to train him, now that he actually had a reason to survive, unlike last time when he was simply an orphan, and not the heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter.

Well, technically that wasn't true, but this time he actually cared about what the title could mean for him and what he could achieve with it. Obviously, he was still Sirius' godson here, according to what he had overheard. That didn't, however, mean that he was next in line as the Black heir – Sirius and Persephone Black had kids here. Their eldest was a girl called Electra Black, slightly younger than Harry. Apparently, Violet and Electra were really close friends.

Electra's reaction to having another Potter to the family was indifference. She was happy her pseudo-sister got to finally meet the brother who had saved her life. She would reserve her judgement about him, for now. She didn't have too many friends, but she cherished the ones she had wholeheartedly.

James Potter was also in charge of bringing his son up to speed on things he should have gotten the chance to teach over the past years. He would relish the opportunity.

It was a warm and pleasant Sunday afternoon of October that James Potter approached his eldest child, who was busy going through a book about magical plants in the family library. He looked up from his book, hearing his father's footsteps softly thudding into the room.

"Harry, I see you've taken to the studying your mother's set you very quickly."

"Hi, yeah, mum told me that I hadn't been shirking my magical education, wherever I was the past few years – I remember most of the things I'm currently reading through."

James quirked up an eyebrow at that. "Oh?"

"Yeah, I've been reading the latest chapter in this book about tending to celandine and hellebore and I know exactly how to do these things, though some a bit differently, although I think the way I remember is supposed to be better. You see, if I do…"

James tuned out of the conversation for a second. His son was bright. Exceptionally bright, even. The book he was currently going through was recommended further reading on plant care, a book that was not used in the curriculum nowadays but had been part of the fifth year O.W.L syllabus in his time. It was not particularly difficult to grasp, as it had been written in a very engaging manner, the herbalist writing it having been a well-known Professor used to giving frequent discourses on the subject.

However, it was not intended for children, and whilst Harry was very precocious, he was still only an eight year old. He no longer had any issue about introducing further knowledge to him. His son was a quick study, and he was ready.

"Very good, Harry," James tried not to sound condescending, he really did. "But that isn't quite the reason why I'm here right now."

That brought Harry up short.

He had been using his amnesia for the past couple months as an all-access pass that went a long way towards explaining his ability to perform critical thinking and analysis well above the norm. He had shown that he wasn't just intelligent, but could also apply the knowledge he had to solve challenging issues. He had shown the ability to adapt as required.

He wondered not for the first time whether displaying his intellectual prowess had been a miscalculated move on his part, and whether his parents were suspicious about anything.

Unnoticeably swallowing a gulp, Harry held up his father's gaze.

"What was it you wanted to tell me about, Dad?"

His nervousness was unwarranted, although his father's reply astounded him. "Harry, how much do you know about metalworking?"

 **.oOo.**

The Potter smithy contained all the tools required for most pre-modern metalworking processes. There was a grinder, an air-pump operated forge, high-quality anvils and an assortment of hammers designed for various tasks, among numerous other tools. A couple house-elves present bowed to them as they made their way through the workshop area, Harry's eyes growing wider in pure glee as he realized he had a chance to learn how to make things in an art that he had no previous knowledge about. By the look he was getting from his father, James Potter would play an important role in that.

A sudden, wayward thought struck him. "Dad, isn't metalworking a mostly muggle job? Can't we just magically create whatever we need in terms of any of the crafts?"

James gave him a knowing look before waving at a nearby workbench. "I asked my father the same thing, Harry, when he first introduced me to this wonder."

An intricate design lay on the bench, and Harry stepped closer to take a look at it.

He was amazed to see the symbol of the deathly hallows placed in the middle of a very elaborate pentagram.

"This, Harry, is what we call a focus. Not like a wand, no, but more like a ward stone, or a rune stone. This brooch here can have a very complex enchantment cast on it, be it a ward, a magic inhibitor, any enchantment of any sort."

He took a short breath.

"However, if the object used for the focus is not designed and made purposefully for the self-same enchantment, then unfortunately the magic will leak out of it over time and go back into the surroundings."

Harry nodded along, to indicate he was listening attentively.

"When we craft metal into a brooch, or a pin, or any object really for the enchantment, we infuse the properties of magic into the work piece, either taken from the ambient magic or expended from our own energy. When this is done correctly, the magic will no longer leak out of item, or will do so at a minimal rate, as compared to before."

Understanding was slowly dawning on Harry.

"So what you're saying is, all those heavy enchantments on the Manor,"

"Are mostly placed on items we crafted ourselves, hidden in a place that no outsider could get access to… do you now understand why enchanting, rune working and warding are three crafts we Potters are well known for?"

Harry did not in fact remember that, but he supposed James expected him to have read that somewhere in his books about the Pureblood society of the magical world.

"There are few families in the whole magical world at large that still practice creating their own enchantments and artifacts. While you'll hear of many families engaging in the trade of said artifacts, very few of us still practice art. It is quite a matter of pride, amongst the older Noble Houses, that we each have an area we specialize in. It is what we all do, for the advancement of magic, in these times of fast-advancing muggle technology. That car I showed you in the garage? It runs on magic – magic drawn from its surroundings. I modified the fuel cell by inserting a custom-built runic converter that removed petrol as the required fuel, all done by yours truly."

Harry was in awe.

"It was not always this way, however." That shook him out of his awe. "Once upon a time, we were merely an offshoot line of the Gryffindor family. It wasn't until Ignotus Peverell married into the Potter line that we surfaced as powerful enchanters and rune-workers."

"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."

"Indeed, Harry. We may never yet know if our ancestor did indeed get a gift from Death itself, but the invisibility cloak he has left us as our family heirloom is still as powerful now as it was in my father's days. It is very likely that his skill in crafting is what gave fuel to that bedtime story, but the Potter family crest has always since incorporated the symbol of the deathly hallows in its design. It remains a sign of respect for the one who elevated us into the noble art."

Harry gazed at the design in wonder. "Dad, is it possible the other two hallows are real?"

He knew some of the answer, Voldemort having gone on a near-worldwide hunt for the Deathstick.

"I doubt it, Harry. Three brothers possibly created three very powerful objects, but there are certain things in our family cloak which show that magic and science both came together to create it – not some phantasmagorical entity." There was definitely a grin at the sheer absurdity of the idea present on James face.

Harry tried to hide his disappointment. Maybe some other books in the library, or perhaps the Hogwarts library would provide additional information regarding the issue.

Maybe becoming the Master of Death meant that it would allow one to choose when they died, and nothing else. Knowing his luck, however, that might just not be the case.

Still, even if he had a reliably good idea about where two of the Hallows were, he had no idea how he would even attempt to find a resurrection stone. He let the matter lie for now.

"But enough digressing; today is going to be your first lesson in here. I'll be showing you how to properly use all of the tools in here, but you are not allowed to come in here by yourself and work with these tools without my supervision, okay? Else Lily's going to have my head."

"Yes, dad, I understand."

What a glorious afternoon indeed.

 **.oOo.**

Violet Potter was incredibly happy. It was not simply because today was Christmas, and she had received presents, but because of a specific present she was now the proud owner of. She looked at her elder brother with adoration in her eyes.

"So as I was saying, this little golden snitch is something I made myself, with a bit of help from dad. I put some special enchantments on it, mostly related to safety precautions, but also a few related to the settings of the snitch. If you need to lower the speed of the snitch a little, you just need to say whatever you want it to do by starting off with 'Activate Snitch'. You can make it fly in circles, move in a completely random pattern, do into straight lines or dives…"

She was still staring at him, making Harry slightly uncomfortable.

"Ahem, so yeah, it took me a couple tries to get it done, it was really shoddy at first, but dad helped me a lot with this," Harry started rambling. "I understand if you don't like it though, I mean it's obviously not the best craftsmanship…"

"I love it!" That short outburst dragged Harry out of his embarrassed rambling.

"You do?"

"Yeah, of course! You _made_ me a snitch! Of course I love it!"

Relief spread visibly through Harry. "That's great, that's really great. I'm so glad."

His shoulders relaxed. It was painfully obvious to his parents that Harry was trying his level best to fit in with the family, and he already cared for his siblings deeply.

When they'd gone to play in the park with their little brother Michael, a couple of the other girls had picked on Violet and Electra, and Harry had been angered enough that he shook while viciously tearing them down with harsh words. It had sent the girls crying, and cheered up both Violet and Electra.

No one picked on his family.

Michael was still overwhelmed at his gift. "You got me a proper broomstick?!"

Harry turned around from hugging his sister to messing with his brother's hair. A slight grin adorned his face. "Indeed, Michael." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Although, you've got to promise only to use it when either Mum, Dad or I'm around, yeah?"

Lily was not exactly pleased when she heard what Harry wanted to get his brother, but she figured that if he could issue boundaries for its use, she had no real qualms about it. Quidditch seemed to run in the family – it would be better to instil proper ethics now than tear her hair over it later.

She smiled at her eldest son. Harry had really come far in a period of a few months. It seemed he had been starved for love, and he was doing his best to catch up with everyone. A small tear threatened to fall from her eyes. She felt blessed to have her family complete once more. She made eye contact with James, and he returned her a look that reminded her of the reason why she'd married him in the first place.

A quiet acquiescence with a gentle smile to show he understood the feeling and was proud.

 **.oOo.**

Harry hadn't quite grasped the full depth of the Potter family library yet. A veritable wealth of information, a real treasure trove of knowledge dedicated to almost all known branches of magic, let alone the few being taught nowadays at magical institutions. This was exactly what he needed. However, even if he had an eidetic memory, it would take years to learn about everything in the books, to study, analyse, assimilate all of the information contained within those walls.

He didn't have that kind of luxury.

Yes, he was only eight years old, almost nine now, and yes, that gave him a decent amount of time to be able to catch up to the level of an arch mage like Dumbledore or Voldemort. However, therein laid the crux of the matter. He didn't want to be stuck _playing_ _catch-up_. He needed to get on equal footing with them. He had around about nineteen years' worth of knowledge, but Voldemort had more than half a century on him, and Dumbledore closer to a full century. To get on an equal level with those titans, well, it would be a very difficult task.

First thing was information gathering. He needed to know just what he was up against in this world, and find out everything he possibly could about the enemy. Secondly, something he was already doing right now was to try and further his own knowledge in all fields of magic as much as possible. It was a monumental task that he set for himself, but only now did he begin to understand the folly of such an undertaking.

In his original world, Hermione herself hadn't been able to find out the depth of Voldemort and Dumbledore's magical knowledge. Not only that, but their know-how of magic itself allowed them to be extremely versatile with their offense and defence, and it showed in every single one of their encounters.

That Voldemort even knew a spell to split a soul away from its divine and mortal constituents spoke a lot about his power. Knowledge is, after all, power.

Now that he had begun going through all of the books in the library, he began to grasp just how hopeless his situation was. He needed to find some form of enlightenment. He needed outside help of _any_ kind. The knowledge to outdo masters in their own fields.

What Harry didn't realize was the small fact that he could actually be considered as an extremely knowledgeable mage himself - he had managed to refine a technique Hermione had managed to create, after a short discussion with Ron gave her sudden insight into the workings of the space-time plane. Not only did that mean he had intricate details about that sort of magic under fine control, it also showed understanding and adaptability to a level hitherto unheard of. After all, not everyone could cast magic so strong that it affected the whole of their existence.

There were different levels of magic that one could cast. Generally, these were grouped together to identify the amount of power normally required to cast a spell. Firstly, at the lowest level, where a single spell would not be a big drain on a person's magical core, were the Reaction-Class spells. These were anything that affected a very small area around the person or had small range. Ranging from everyday household charms to the powerful battle-magic spells, they could become quickly taxing on a person's magical core, reaching the high end of the spectrum. The effective range of these spells meant that they are generally most powerful at closest range, diminishing in power as it travels on and ultimately fizzles out beyond a certain point, depending on the amount of magical energy expended into the spell.

After this level came the Battalion-Class spells, termed such due to the first recorded instance of use of a spell falling into the category. Aptly named, it incorporated spells that were able to affect huge areas. Certain reaction-class spells could be overpowered to a huge degree to fall into this category; the first recorded use of fiendfyre, one that was completely uncontrolled, grew to burn down a full forest as well as the two unfortunate armies that were involved in a battle within it. Ironically, the mage who cast it, seeking a more favourable outcome for his kind, went down in history as the one of the worst possible _idiotic_ dark lords of Ancient China.

The last class of spells were arguably the most powerful, but could be the least noticeable as well. Magical spells that could encompass the whole world or other huge areas generally fell under World-Class magic. The last known recorded use of it was when the International Confederation of Wizards enforced the Statute of Secrecy.

Another such use was Harry's ritual to transcend the limitations of the space-time plane and alter the past. This was different to Time-Turners simply by virtue of it altering a whole reality – his home universe, instead of just allowing loophole exploitation.

Thus, the fact that Harry still believed he had so much ground to catch up on compared to Voldemort was simply a skewed belief, born from a desperate need to become better than anything that could be thrown at him; a pure survival instinct.

In reality, out of the different levels of magic users, Harry would rate at a very high level with just his magical knowledge. His core, while having dwindled in size to that of a child of his age, would be sure to grow unencumbered by the previous limitations that had sprung from being forced to live with the Dursley routine.

All beginner wizards and witches were at the level of an apprentice, after which came the normal and most populous rank of magician, after which came masters. The higher level of sorcerer, much fewer in number indeed, was succeeded only by the ranks of arch mage and deity, respectively. While magical ability was the deciding factor on how you were ranked, every so often ingenious ways of using magic were discovered, and forced some adjustments on the system. The ministry of magic's department of mysteries was in charge of handling this, and they managed to shroud much of magical Britain's knowledge of the ranking system itself in mystery.

If Unspeakable Lily Potter had thought to test the magical ability of her son and Harry agreed to do so without holding back, they would have been surprised to note that he was already considered a master.

The years of education yet to come would be able to change that into something far greater, given proper stimulus.

Little, mortal, Harry was not dwelling on such matters, however. He had gotten it in his head that he would have to seek help elsewhere, and that his own power was not going to be enough. With that in mind, he began sorting through the books with one topic in mind: summoning.

 **.oOo.**

In another part of the Potter Manor, while Harry was busy dabbling in forbidden magics, Lily Potter was reading a troubling letter that she had received in the morning.

She knew it was a sincere letter, and she wanted to believe its contents, but she did not know how to process the information.

She began to read it again.

 _Dear Lily,_

 _It has been a long time since I've written to you. You may not believe this, but I truly have missed my little sister. Much has changed in the past few years, since your marriage._

 _My little baby has grown into a beautiful, kind boy. His father, however, has not stopped his downward slope, ever since he lost his promotion to a younger associate three years ago._

 _I know we haven't always been on speaking terms, especially after how I behaved and treated you at your wedding, but in fairness Potter played a cruel prank on Vernon. Just the mere mention of magic has been forbidden in our household since._

 _I do not know how else to put this, Lily, but I need help._

 _Vernon has become increasingly aggressive in his mannerisms and behaviour. He started off slowly, a small glass of whiskey every few days turning into one every day, and then some more. I'm not worried about myself, as you know; I can take pretty good care of myself._

Lily remembered an incident involving Severus Snape when they were younger and chuckled slightly.

 _What I'm starting to fear is that his aggression is not being limited to domestic interactions with me anymore. Yesterday I saw Dudley with a hand-sized bruised across his back while taking his washing. I need to get out of this._

 _Again, you'll ask, why do I need you for that? The truth is, I don't._

 _I've filed for divorce. I've got enough money saved up from working odd jobs over the years and part of the money dad left me in his inheritance. I'm going to get out of this, one way or another._

 _However, I intend to get as far away from this man as I possibly can. The only favour I have to ask of you is to make him forget us, make him forget us completely. I'll let Dudley visit his father once he's older, if he really wants to, but it is simply not possible to live like this, in fear. A tyrant in the house is not how I want Dudley growing up._

 _I've tried to keep him away from home as much as possible, now that Vernon is in a transition period between jobs and thus sitting at home doing nothing. Extra-curricular activities, all kinds of stuff, anything to keep him away as much as I can. That's the best protection I can give him as a mother right now, and it simply isn't enough._

 _As one mother to another, Lily, please help me help my son._

 _One more thing, though, that might shock you. Dudley has heard a lot about his wonderful aunt Lily—_

Lily paused and scoffed.

— _and he wants to meet her and his cousins. I remember you telling me about your son and daughter, and I imagine have grown a lot since your last mail. I would be very grateful if we could one day arrange for this._

Of course, she hadn't told Petunia about Harry.

 _As I finish writing this, I've made preparations for moving out completely. Vernon should have no idea about this, I haven't made any overt moves and Dudley has no idea when I plan on doing this. I intend to move out soon. Vernon leaves Friday afternoons to play golf with some shareholders. That's in two days._

 _I know you'll find me wherever I am, so I'm not giving you an address. Take care of yourself, and I'll do the same._

 _With love,_

 _Tuney_

 _P.S. I'm going to become a lawyer. Should you ever get in trouble, contact me._

The nerve! To ignore her for so long, and suddenly do a completely one-eighty!

Lily had made up her mind a long time back. She just needed to angst over it for a while longer. After all, there was no way she was going to ignore her Tuney like that, no matter the stuff that happened previously; water under the bridge.

She sat down to think about what to tell James.

It would be a very interesting conversation.

 **.oOo.**

Inside his chambers, an aged headmaster began massaging his temples. Things were moving too quickly.

Just yesterday morning Severus Snape informed him that the dark mark had started to become more and more visible. He needed a way to check this information before he could act on it.

The former leader of the armies of magical Europe would not act without proof, else he condemn even more souls to a terrible fate.

The problem was what was the best way to go about this? He could not simply put Severus on a reconnaissance mission, or even as bait. The potions master was a tremendous spy, definitely, but he was too valuable to be used in this way, especially if Voldemort was temperamental at this point of time and killed indiscriminately. He could not just simply let just about anyone become target practice either – and he couldn't ask his Order to investigate possible sightings, magical Britain, and indeed, magical Europe was not ready for news of this magnitude.

There was one way he could check up on this, one very difficult and extremely delicate way. But it would mean likely losing support of most of his followers should they find out.

From the perch nearby, Fawkes gave a reassuring trill, calming his nerves considerably.

Maybe he could compromise. He could go ahead with this plan, but possibly set some safeguards so that his intentions would not be questioned. Merlin knew he couldn't afford that right now. The tenuous peace that existed between him and the Potter family would be shattered, and the Order would lose their most powerful members along with them.

Picking up his ostrich feather quill, he dipped it in ink and began scribbling away on a short piece of parchment in front of him.

Once he was done writing a multitude of letters, he beckoned Fawkes over.

"My dear friend, I need you to deliver these letters."

Fawkes gave an indignant trill, but was interrupted by Dumbledore. "You know I wouldn't ask you unless it was of the utmost importance that no one be able to intercept this."

Fawkes made a soft squeak that sounded suspiciously similar to a sigh. _Very well._

"Good. The first one needs to go to James Potter and Sirius Black, at their desk at the Auror office, while the second goes to their superior, Madam Amelia Bones. This third one is to be sent to Head Unspeakable Croaker and Unspeakable Lily Potter-Evans. Godspeed my friend."

Fawkes gave an acquiescing trill before disappearing in a burst of primal fire.

Leaving behind a scorched desk.

Dumbledore slapped his face into his palms.

He despaired at ever getting Fawkes to stop getting at him like that.

He didn't have to wait long, though. He knew his letters would either set three people on a warpath, or all of them, running straight to his office. Stepping towards his fireplace, he called out to Snape via floo network and asked him to come to his office and bring his newest project with him.

Just as he predicted, within five minutes, all of the people he sent letters to came barging into his office.

James and Sirius saw Snape and gave a small nod of acknowledgement, which was returned in kind.

The first to speak up, however, when noticing present company, however, was Unspeakable Potter-Evans.

"Dumbledore," Lily began speaking slowly and articulately. "What in Morgana's name are you thinking? Have you gone senile?"

Dumbledore would have shuddered at the tone had he not been used to having the woman come to his office during the later years of her education, often in trouble related to three of the other people in the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I assure you, I'm still quite sane. As a matter of fact, I chose to first discuss this endeavour with all of you, instead of strong-arming my way through it. Let it be a show of trust and thus give me the benefit of doubt?"

James Potter and Sirius Black looked at him, mouths tightly shut in a grim expression. Amelia Bones gave a small sigh before asking him to continue.

"The reason I've asked Severus here today with you all is because he is of vital importance to this bait plan. Tell me, Algernon, are you familiar with the muggle fishing saying of 'hook, line, and sinker'?"

A sharp intake of breath followed, but Dumbledore continued.

"Before we release Mr. Pettigrew from Azkaban, he is going to be fed a tracker potion. Severus will initiate Project Takedown on him beforehand, so even if Pettigrew does get smart and cleanse himself of any potions in his system, he will never be able to visit locations that we do not want him to without his magical core exploding. He is, however, going to flee to the only person he knows needs him – Voldemort."

"What if he wants revenge, Headmaster, what then?"

"Did you ever know Mr. Pettigrew to be courageous, Mr. Black?"

Sirius gave a defeated shake of his head.

Severus spoke up. "There's no need to worry about that. If you trust my handiwork, trust me when I say he will _not_ be able to go to certain locations. His whole body will begin to rebel – he won't be awake for long. We can then, ah, _expatriate_ him."

That mollified the group a bit. Severus Snape's creations were legendary to them, and classified. He was, after all, contracted by the Department of Mysteries on different topics.

"Anyways, as I was saying, we'll follow him wherever he goes. If he does happen to lead us to any death eaters, those released or unaccounted for, that will simply be a bonus. However, my main concern is Voldemort. I—We need to know whether he is still a threat or not. If he what I think he is, currently, I may have something that will work against him for now. A bit of powerful holy magic taught to me by a priest."

"So what is your full plan? Wormtail goes to Voldemort, then what?"

"Well, firstly it gives us undeniable evidence that Voldemort is still about, and we take steps to prepare to face him when he weasels his way back in Britain." Dumbledore took a short breath.

"Secondly, and actually more importantly, we give Voldemort small clues and hints to show that we released Mr. Pettigrew."

Eyebrows quirked up on everyone's faces.

"This will make him wary, but it will give him a sense of false confidence, that he thinks he knows what our intentions are. Likely, he will either kill Mr. Pettigrew, which I highly doubt given his situation if he is indeed alive, or, more probably, he will knock Pettigrew out and take him somewhere, wherever he feels is safe."

"Dumbledore, he will likely remove any sort of tracking charm or potion we put on Mr. Pettigrew himself, then."

"I am well aware of that – that is meant to reinforce his idea that we have little control over the situation. Once he feels safe enough, however, the trap will be sprung. Hook, line, sinker."

"The trap?"

"Oh, I apologize; I must have forgotten to mention that I would be adding the powerful holy magic as a latent curse on Mr. Pettigrew."

That was smart.

But nothing Voldemort wouldn't expect.

"Headmaster, I'm sure you realize, Voldemort will be expecting something of the sort and take precautions against it?"

"Hmm, indeed. However, this spell will only work _when you try to remove it_."

Now _that_ was clever.

Amelia was not fully convinced, however. "What contingency plans do we have in place in case this one fails? I'm not releasing a known criminal and potentially strengthening a terrorist group without some sort of reassurance this cannot go badly for us regardless of the circumstance."

Dumbledore immediately gave up his gentle face for a solemn one. "The spell is designed to work in tandem with Severus' creation. It will kill Mr. Pettigrew if nothing else."

That shocked everyone. Albus Dumbledore, self-proclaimed pacifist, would essentially be murdering someone?

Moreover, he was admitting this in front of law enforcement.

Amelia Bones took a decision. "Potter, Black, this meeting never happened. We did not hear anything in here that Headmaster Dumbledore could be prosecuted for. Understood?"

After a short moment, both replied. "Crystal, ma'am."

Dumbledore gave a short cough, and continued after he let news sink in. "In the event that the spell works as intended, we will simply recapture Mr. Pettigrew; well, law enforcement will recapture Mr. Pettigrew. At that point I will let several senior members of the I.C.W. know of this mission. This way they cannot accuse Britain of incompetence. Cornelius will be thanking me without knowing what he's thanking me for."

"What about the muggle government?"

Severus, while shocked at the fact that this was Dumbledore's endgame when he informed him to bring up his Project Takedown, did not hesitate to fill in the gaps.

"I assume steps will be taken towards informing the muggle government and intelligence of this operation. I daresay they won't be too pleased this is happening, but there isn't too much we can do about this differently, and they'll understand that."

"The hell they will! Wormtail is a known mass-murderer; they're not going to take this lying down!"

"Which is why they will be assisting in his trial, as special envoys; it is time the muggles understood how similar our judicial system is to theirs. They will abandon a lot of charges against the magical people as a whole once they see we are just as ruthless and efficient as them."

Amelia's words made Dumbledore pause. He looked up at her, however, and saw the determination in her eyes and voiced his agreement to this new turn.

Over the next few hours, all of them went over the plan in great detail.

The winds of war would be diverted for now.

 **.oOo.**

"Cornelius, why do you need to let the populace know about this? You've hushed up quite a few things in your time – give Amelia the time she needs to catch Mr. Pettigrew, and then this whole thing can be brushed under the rug. After all, this wouldn't be the first time something has gone wrong and you've done this before, so why hesitate now?"

"Because, Dumbledore, this is just a ploy by the opposition to make me look bad! If I don't let the general population know, I'll be vilified!"

"And if you do let them know, Minister, you'll cause mass-panic."

"Amelia, I cannot simply abide by this! I'm going to the Prophet tomorrow and I'll let them know about this prison break."

"Cornelius—"

"No, Dumbledore, I will not stand by—"

" _Imperio."_

Amelia looked at Dumbledore, startled. She didn't think she would be waiving another law for the _esteemed_ leader of the light. She let him finish his spell, and waited until Minister Fudge declared that the small matter of funding be discussed at a later date and bade them leave him to his busy schedule.

"Amelia, I will not apologize for this. Not until Voldemort has been put down. When that's done, I'm willing to go on trial for the many failures I've committed during my tenure as Supreme Magi and as Headmaster, as well as Supreme Mugwump and all my other titles. For now, however, let's focus on the task at hand."

Amelia gave a short nod, picking up where she left off before being summoned to Minister Fudge's office.

"Croaker reports that Pettigrew didn't take any precautionary measures. Warden Thompson reports that no member of staff was hurt during his escape, but to not make it seem too easy to Pettigrew he had simply switched around the patrol rotas to full dementors instead of dementors/Auror mix. Potter and Black were present and shadowing Pettigrew."

"I see."

"Pettigrew has apparently tried to contact the remaining Carrows members, but instead of whatever welcome he was expecting, he was turned away unceremoniously. He's now heading towards the Balkans."

"I take it we are still tracking his movements in real time, then?"

"Yes, Headmaster."

"Good. It's time to see if this plans leads to fruition."

Meanwhile, over a thousand miles away, Peter Pettigrew was following up a lead he had heard from a nearby tavern. Apparently there was a forest in the southern parts that the locals stopped frequenting, simply because of the absurd number of 'accidents' that occurred in there, and the amnesia and general fatigue felt by the victims when they returned, if they returned.

He was on the right track.

Two days later, scurrying through the same forest, Peter found what he was looking for.

"Master, I've found you! I've come to serve you my lord!"

He was met with a brutal stunner to the face.

Loud chattering. Heavy, slowed feelings. Jaw-slacking.

Blink.

When he woke up, his world came crashing down on him.

"NO! I'm not going back!"

Over a thousand miles away, inside the headmaster's office at Hogwarts, a meeting was being held.

"Now that is what you call flawless execution."

"Croaker, I know your Unspeakables were nearby, would you mind debriefing us?" He gave an acquiescing nod at Bones and continued.

"Well, it worked just as you said it would, Albus. Voldemort began looking for tracking charms and things, that he found, so he removed that and transported Pettigrew away to a nearby location whereby he went through a full removal ritual. That's when a spell exploded from Pettigrew into Voldemort and seemingly destroyed him. The recapture operation then began and apprehended a still incapacitated Pettigrew. Well done, Albus, it seems you've done it."

"No, I haven't actually. You see, the spell I created would be similar to exorcism. What I've in fact done is to scatter the essence of Voldemort to high heavens. Hopefully, it will take him years to reform properly. No, I haven't saved anyone. I've merely bought us some time, and confirmed two separate suspicions of mine."

Everyone gained a hard look. It seemed they would have to face the threat of Voldemort again, sooner or later.

"One, Voldemort is alive. Of this we now have definite proof. Two, I have some idea of how Voldemort was able to survive even after being killed."

Lily started to make the connections quickly. "You said your spell was a sort of exorcism – does that mean Voldemort possessed somebody when he attacked us that night?"

"Close, my dear, but not quite. The spell I used works on the soul, like the Killing Curse. The one thing it has proved is that Voldemort has somehow managed to separate his soul from his body, so that in the event of his body's death, his soul would still be preserved. There are many ways to do this, and I will have to research to know which one he used. That is all I know for the moment."

Everyone was troubled by the news. It was one thing to fight a tangible enemy. It was a completely different matter to fight against something you didn't understand. Especially an enemy like Voldemort.

Suddenly, Croaker's magical transceiver began to ping loudly. He took it out and listened to the message relayed to him and promptly paled.

He turned around, still in shock and tried to process what he just heard. This was definitely going to screw up things.

Everyone looked at him anxiously, fearing what news he would tell them. Forefront on all their minds was the idea that Pettigrew had managed to escape custody.

Pinching the bridge of his nose to calm himself, Croaker spoke up. "Albus, we have an issue."

He motioned for a glass of water, which was promptly given to him.

"Peter Pettigrew killed himself a few moments ago."

That was quite a bombshell to drop on them.

 _Ministry carrying out secret executions?_

 _Ministry incompetence covered up?_

 _Are we truly safe from the atrocities of the first and second wars?_

He could see the titles again. This was a calamity for the relations he was trying to build up with the muggles, but he supposed he could have some way of fixing the situation.

Dumbledore almost groaned. So much clean-up to do. He looked up at the people in his office and decided that for once, having shared the details of his plans previously, they would be backing him up on this.

"All of you, I'd like to thank you for your support in this endeavour. While I admit this was not how it was supposed to work out, I am nevertheless still glad we undertook this. It has cleared up greater concerns for all of us, and I for one will not allow this to detract from—"

"This is your Greater Good principle at work, is it not, Dumbledore?"

"I beg your pardon, James?"

"I said, this is, after all, the most utilitarian approach we can have, headmaster. So forgive me for borrowing your line, but, at the risk of sounding like a hypocrite – it was for the Greater Good."

That stunned him into silence. This was unexpected. This was an insult to the memory of all of his accomplishments as a young man.

But it was not untrue.

"For now, we'll have to deal with the fallout from this, that's all, Headmaster. I'm sure this council can handle it."

"Council?"

James smirked. "Well, we have to call ourselves something, now, don't we? Can't keep meeting up like this without a proper call sign, Headmaster."

"You have your Order of the Phoenix—this'll be Council of Dragons. We have to keep watch for our future, after all."

Everyone just looked at James Potter's face with sheer disbelief, before Severus Snape smirked. "We'll need proper funding, headmaster, and a bit of political backing."

Snape's grin turned devious, and even Sirius Black began to shudder at the implications. "I know just who to contact for certain supplies."

Sirius began to understand and chipped in. "And I have some connections to supplies myself, Headmaster."

Dumbledore gave the three younger men an exasperated look.

Amelia Bones, however, smirked. "You know, Headmaster, they have a point. A second powerful network that works solely based on secrecy and is headed by a council instead of a single person."

Croaker looked at Dumbledore with a piercing gaze, an undercurrent of trepidation and excitement present in the look.

"Et tu, Algernon?"

"Well, they make good points. Consider us concerned citizens creating a council."

And thus the Council of Dragons was formed, in complete secrecy.

 **.oOo.**

"Perfect, this is just what I needed."

Harry thanked his sister Violet for the little bit of Unicorn horn dust she gave him, no questions asked. He had, after all, stopped her from getting into trouble with their parents multiple times now, and if he needed the dust for some reason, then she trusted him.

Little Violet Potter had come to idolize her elder brother.

Violet was ushered out of his room with the excuse of needing to test a hypothesis, and she had learnt over the past few months to take him at face value due to repeated incidents of blown up potions. She quickly left him to his own devices.

Closing the door, Harry grinned. He finally had the last ingredient he needed for the summoning ritual.

After all, who better to learn about souls from than Death herself?

* * *

 **AN: And that's a wrap for this chapter. Next one coming up within the end of the month. Hopefully. I tend to write around a passage a day, from 1k words to 4k. Or every other day. Review please!**


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